Void of Romance & Other Lingering Scents
by red devil lord
Summary: The feeling of love is easily stirred after years of not feeling it. Dante/Nero (mentions of Trish/Dante)


Dis: Don't own characters or settings, merely the words.

A/N: B, I hope this is what you wanted...also, I'm sorry that I can't remember what the DMC looks like on the inside, it has been a while since I played four. My apologies.

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_Void of Romance & Other Lingering Scents_

It's been two days since the punk followed him home. Two long days since Fortuna's incident. Two long, bitter, annoying days of a young kid stalking him. At least, that is how Dante had pictured it. A kid, stalking him, as if the older slayer had slain his puppy and the other was out to get revenge. Now, as the red and black dressed hybrid sat at his desk, feet kicked up in relaxation, he knew the young one was sitting outside his shop. Either debating to knock or attempting to figure out a good reason as to why he has followed. It's possible that the younger even thought he could fool his elder. Dante scoffed a soft laugh. As if Nero could get the edge over him. He's proven the kid several times wrong. He was pretty sure he didn't need to once more.

He was curious though. Why had the kid followed him? Hadn't he worked so hard, suffered through enough ordeals, to save the woman that he loved? Kyrie, right? At least Dante was pretty sure that was the name that was yelled several times by the young slayer. She was cute, but too cute for the elder's taste. He preferred his woman a little...'Careful' corrected his brain. If Lady had a sixth sense, which he was sure she did, she'd automatically know he used a wrong term to describe her. Then shoot him. Trish would take a little less offense, but in some underhand way repay him for it. Her manhandling him, stroking, fingering and using her electricity to make the poor slayer come close to cumming, only to stop, would be a good example. Hell, he still remembered when he was younger and Trish and him started to get together.

A part of her still contained that haughty demonic superior nature, and when Dante suggested that they 'get in between the sheets to make love', Trish made sure she had the upper hand. It wasn't as unsatisfying - because it was highly satisfying -, as it was emasculating. She didn't even take him to his bed, nor couch. Just gave him a rather dominating handjob in his chair. The slayer groaned, shifting his feet to the floor so he may stand. Upon doing so, the first thing he accomplished was shifting his pants to prevent discomfort. It wouldn't be the wisest idea to be turned on when he needed to confront the youth at his door. With that thought, he forced his brain to think of the worst scenario possible. The ugliest thing he could think of: Jester and Arkham - though they were the same - getting it on in a rain of colored confetti, festival music playing and large, demonic, balancing balls rolling around.

A disturbed expression broke Dante's face, before a sharp laugh. He could just hear the B-rated porn dialogue. 'Oh...Arkham...you make me shiver like you never know...!' 'Yes...like that. Just like that. Yes! Good! So evil! So delicious!' 'Someone is shuuuuderiiinggg~' Arkham's face would never alter from its impassive state, even as he yelled when climax reached. No, no...Dante shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, overcome with chuckles. He forced himself further on the journey, opened the door and just about startled the young blood into an early grave. "Whoa there, kid. Breathe."

A sharp glare greeted his amused expression. "Jesus Christ, Dante, what do you think you're doing?"

Said slayer pressed his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed. "I should be asking _you_ that question. What are you doing? You've been following me since the return from Fortuna."

"Yeah...well I had to."

"For what? Insurance payment or something? Let me guess, you got your lawyer on my ass and you want me to pay for some of the damage done to your hometown. Well, that ain't happenin'. I have my own issues with insurance for this place." Nero stared blankly, allowing the elder to finish.

"Does anyone ever tell you that you talk too much, old man?" Old...man? The red and black dressed slayer could feel every muscle in his body tense. He wasn't _that_ old. Sure, maybe he already lived out his twenties, but...what a fucking punk. It was a light insult - friendly banter.

"What for, exactly?"

Nero shifted, bringing himself to stand, though still a step lower than the elder before him. "I wanted to thank you, properly. For everything you helped with in Fortuna."

"Kid, we've been over this. It was a job, nothing personal."

"To you it was a job. To me, it was personal. I'd like to repay the favor by helping you." Helping? The kid offered to help him with his establishment. This sounded bad. Dante knew this was bad, and Nero knew exactly what he thought. "Look, please. Let me help. I can. I'll get Credo and Kyrie to wire me some money, get a place to stay for a while if it's too much to ask you for a place...and when you have jobs, let me join. I can assist you." Several things went wrong with this scenario. Nero needed to train harder. Yes, he could hold his own, but _barely_. Dante didn't have time to babysit on missions, and it wasn't as though he could pass the kid off on one of the women to train. Lady would yell at him until the young one's self confidence was beneath the dirt. Trish, if she wasn't completing tasks with Sparda's son, she was accomplishing things by herself - which she did fruitfully.

On top of all this, Nero had thought he was going to stay at the DMC? Why did everything have to be dropped on the slayer's dick like random whores? The sex was good, the women were beautiful, but the STDs were the unwelcome part. "Please, Dante. I just want to return the favor." The elder slayer was sure Nero forgot to add on 'Though I cause more trouble than I'm going to help.' What could he do in this situation? He could ship the kid back to Fortuna, even if it was a two day trip.

"Are you hungry?" The hybrid questioned, giving into the more human aspect of his mixed blood. He would at least ship the kid back in the morning. Nero's face brightened, his brain having prepared for the worst. Expected the worst.

"So then...I..."

"You can stay a night. Then head back to Fortuna in the morning." Dante blurted, quick to shoot down hopes.

The disappointment settled in. Nero frowned, "Oh."

"..._unless _you can prove yourself useful enough." Wait, what? Damn his human side and being swayed easily toward it more so than his demonic brain. Why can't he, for once, just let someone have a saddened face expression and laugh at it? Oh, because he wasn't like Vergil - a dick. "Then I'll let you stay the week...and thus go from there." A smile breached the younger's lips, grew and spread into a wide, shit-eating grin. "But!" Nero stopped before he made it up the the final two stairs to Dante's side. "My shop. My rules. My jobs. You need to carry your weight." Nero nodded. "Need to listen to what I say." Another curt nod. "And don't disrespect me." One last nod.

"You got it. Of course."

"You'll sleep on the couch, don't worry about money. Bathroom's in the back, my room's upstairs. Besides that..." He shifted his weight, stood straight and eased his way into the shop, Nero following. "Welcome to the Devil May Cry, kiddo." Nothing about the place shocked the younger slayer. Not the beer bottles, trash outside the trash can, misplaced, random items nor did the heavy scent which littered the air. Dante couldn't keep the five o'clock shadow off his face, Nero hadn't expect him to keep his place of residence clean. If he had, then maybe he would have been surprised. "Home sweet home."

"Yeah, I can see that." He hesitated at first, let the leather clad hybrid return to his desk before carefully walking around to get a better look at the lower floor. When he came to the doors in the back, he pointed, fully knowing the elder's eyes were on him.

"Bathroom."

"And that?"

"Oh that?" Dante craned his neck, peering over his left shoulder. "Kitchen, but it's rarely used. Then there's a door that leads out into the back alley through that."

"And you don't use it..." Nero's eyes caught a hold of a few pizza boxes settled against the small wastebin.

"No need."

"Don't you ever cook, or do you always order out?"

Dante shrugged. "I don't see a reason not too. Look, if you want to lecture me about my eating habits..."

"No," Nero turned, looking at the elder, a little worried he insulted the male. "Sorry. Uhm...asking too many questions?" Crystal blue orbs watched carefully.

"Nah, you're fine."

Once he was done looking, the young blood turned to his elder. "So...you said something about getting something to eat?" He offered the best innocent smile he could offer, earning a soft scoff of a laugh and smirk from Dante.

As the day settled into night, and a week slowly crawled by, it was evident to both slayers that Nero wasn't leaving. He had pulled his weight around the shop, more than Dante had figured. Accomplished more than the elder asked for, and strived to be something that would prove to Sparda's son that the Fortuna kid could do whatever was needed to get the job done. Although, none of these good deeds came without bantering. Nero and him often butted heads during the week. During the jobs that presented themselves to them. During the clean up and how Dante should keep his own goddamn shop straightened in case customers are at the door. During the kitchen incident when Nero suggested that they try to make something to eat and not order pizza for the fifteenth time, and during the early afternoon when the younger blood just about scolded the elder for sleeping in so late.

This often brought thoughts of just telling the kid to 'fuck off' and return home, but it had been so long since someone lived with him, there was a sense of comfort. Trish had moved out a little after the events of Mallet Island - mostly she stayed to make sure Dante was mentally stable enough as well as their fooling around - Lady had never stayed more than a night, if she dared, and the countless times he's told people that he's a big boy and being alone doesn't bother him, he knows it does. With old wounds finally starting to scar, Dante figured it could be a good idea to keep someone around. At least until they go on their way with life - like how Trish did. Lady too. Patty as well. Besides, it isn't as though the red and black slayer is going somewhere.

"How come you have all these songs to pick from and I can't find one good one to choose?" Nero sighed, peering at the jukebox.

"Because you're picky and can't decide on anything," Dante argued, having been stolen from his mid afternoon nap by the kid's yapping. He eased the magazine from his face and dropped it to the floor. It earned a sharp clearing of the throat from the younger slayer. Dante groaned. "I'll pick it up later..."

"Yeah, later being three days from now."

"Don't test me."

"And does someone like you really need midday naps?"

"It's not like we're doing anything." The elder sighed. "Plus it's a nice, warm afternoon. Those are always good days to take naps."

Nero rolled his eyes, withdrawing from the machine and making it to his elder's side. "Well we could do something. Together. Go out somewhere."

Crystal blue eyes found his easily, a little unreadable though filled with subtle amusement. "Are you asking me out on a date, kid?" He was answered with a harsh scoff and crossed arms. "Are you paying for dinner? Maybe when we come back you'll treat me real nice, right?" Dante eased the chair and his feet to the floor, peering up at the bitter youth. A slight twinge of red speckled Nero's face.

"You're a sick pervert, old man."

"I guess that's a no. We're not going out on a date, you're not paying for dinner and you're not coming back to fuck me."

"W-what?" All calm demeanor broke from the kid's appearance. "Don't say it so bluntly...!"

"Aw..." Dante stood, breached the personal space of his partner in crime and cupped the soft face. He kept his own close. "So you really don't want to fuck me, Nero?" A few steps forward. The kid backed up subconsciously until he was pressed against the wall, Dante flush against him, still touching, still eying him with half lidded eyes. Crystal blue daring. His voice lowered. "Tell me to my face...that you don't want to fuck me." Nero's breath seized in his chest, his brain forcing him to take shallowed, barely audible gasps. Everything felt surreal, dream-like lucid. His eyes were drawn to Dante's lips, unable to keep eye contact, and it wasn't long before he tested the waters. Lips captured the others in a meek, wary kiss. When they conceded defeat and withdrew, the elder licked his own. He had received his answer, ran a thumb over the other's lower lip. "Tell me that you want to fuck me."

"I do..." Nero muttered in the same, low tone. "I want to...fuck you..."

"Then don't kiss me like that. Kiss me like this..." Once more lips captured the others, pressing down deeply, lovingly and passionately. As teeth gnawed at Nero's bottom for but a brief moment, some odd sense of teasing lingered. "Now...what about that date?"

What about Kyrie? Nero's mind questioned. His eyes were glue to the elder's face, a small echo of pleading behind the pale features. How bad could one evening with Dante be? "Okay."

The rest of the day into evening was typical, but nice. They spent their time doing nothing. Bullshitted here and there about old times. Bantered back and forth, and overall enjoyed the other's company. When it got closer to dinner, they didn't eat at the shop. Instead, Dante took Nero to a nice restaurant where it wasn't required to be dressy. He wasn't pulling out all the stops for the young slayer. You never want to lay it on too thick. Which is why roses, wine and expensive meals were skipped, and a cheaper, calmer place was opted over the former. By the time they returned, it was late. The full moon grazed the blackness of the night, mixed with soft clouds that allowed light rain fall.

Dante pressed his lips against Nero's, easing him into the worn leather of the couch. A hand crawled up the younger's thigh, creeping toward his buckle before being swatted away. Nero fisted his devil bringer, taking a hold of black material about the elder's neck, and kept the gap closed. Kept the heat from flushed bodies and faces from escaping. Passionate, loving kisses trailed every aspect of the young blood's face - nose, cheek, forehead, temple, jaw and lips. They marked each speck of skin their own and their owner's. While little nips gnawed lovingly at the Fortuna kid's jawline and neck.

Nero groaned, releasing light hums of pleasure, satisfaction and comfort. The feeling of belonging, being loved and cared for was an extraordinarily one. Especially by one he had recently developed an infatuation toward. He brought Dante's face back to his own, and met his lips in a gentle, loving embrace.

The elder smirked, and pressed his forehead against the younger's, their noses just barely touching. The air was suffocating, filled with human emotion akin to love. It is so easily stirred after years of not being with someone. Easier for those who haven't experienced it at all. A place where both could linger for a lifetime, a thousand lifetimes. In this hushed moment where only soft, content gasps were emitted and the scent of arousal lingered. If one of them shifted their weight, moved a hand or spoke a word, it would be broken. The illusion would be shattered, and they would succumb to reality. Dante was the one who broke it. He eased his weight off the younger, pulled his forehead from him as well, and then turned to peer at the doors of the Devil May Cry. "Dante?"

He hesitated, a little bit of forlorn confusion written across his features. "Uh...excuse me a moment." He withdrew from the kid, walked to the doors and opened them. Something familiar coated the air - a clean, sharp, musky scent that mirrored his bitter spiced one. A scent that had long since been forgotten, slipped from Dante's mind and scattered with other memories of childhood. As he glanced both up and down the street, peered through the darkness that has befallen the city and alleyways, he was greeted with nothing. No familiar figure with a familiar scent, no large, jutting tower that made women shudder, merely the full moon, a light rainfall, and that awkward feeling that someone with the same face was too close.


End file.
